.

Margaret! white-robed, thy hair unbound, thy veil,
Most like a bride wert thou
When Ocean clasped thee, and, with lips all pale
And icy, kissed thy brow.

And lovely as a white unfolded blossom
Lay the child Angelo,
Hushed to his dreamless flower-sleep on that bosom
Which would not let him go.

Husband, and wife, and child together flutter
Up to the great white throne,
Where nevermore may Margaret Fuller utter
That piteous "Alone!"

_The_ Contents

_The_ PRINTER'S FOREWORD _to this_ EDITION PAGE v

DAME SHIRLEY PAGE xxvii

BEING _a_ PAPER _prepared by_ MRS. MARY VIOLA TINGLEY LAWRENCE _to be
read before a_ SAN FRANCISCO _literary society_.

LETTER _the_ FIRST PART ONE PAGE 1

THE JOURNEY TO RICH BAR

A thousand people and but one physician. The author's husband seeks
health and business. Journey through deep snow, in midsummer, to reach
Rich Bar. The revivifying effect of mountain atmosphere. Arrival of
twenty-nine physicians in less than three weeks. The author's purpose
to leave San Francisco and join her husband at the mines. Direful
predictions and disapprobation of friends. Indelicacy of her position
among an almost exclusively male population. Indians, ennui, cold.
Leaves for Marysville. Scanty fare on way. Meets husband. Falls from
mule. An exhausting ride. A midnight _petit souper_ at Marysville.
Dr. C. leaves on muleback for Bidwell's Bar. The author follows in
springless wagon. Beautiful scenery. Marysville Buttes. Sierra Nevada.
Indian women, their near-nudity, beautiful limbs and lithe forms,
picturesqueness. Flower-seed gathering. Indian bread. Marvelous
handiwork of basketry. A dangerous precipice. A disclaimer of bravery.
Table Mountain. Arrival at Bidwell's Bar. Rejoins husband. Uninviting
quarters. Proceed to Berry Creek.

LETTER _the_ FIRST PART TWO PAGE 15

THE JOURNEY TO RICH BAR

A moonlit midsummer-night's ride on muleback. Joyous beginning. The
Indian trail lost. Camping out for the night. Attempts in morning to
find the trail. A trying ride in the fierce heat of midday. The trail
found. A digression of thirty miles. Lack of food, and seven more miles
to ride. To rest impossible. Mad joy when within sight of Berry Creek
Rancho. Congratulations upon escape fro